


Subtracted

by Elphabuddy



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Comfort, Death, Grief, Semi toxic friendships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-11 04:35:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18422928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elphabuddy/pseuds/Elphabuddy
Summary: Heather is dead and no one will explain to Heather what happened or clarify which Heather is gone.





	Subtracted

**Author's Note:**

> TW Suicide discussion, bulimia discussion, vomit mentions. Nothing too bad but nothing too good.

Everyone is staring. She can feel their eyes scanning her, inspecting her, and she wants nothing more than to run to the bathroom and stick her fingers down her throat so she isn’t such a hideous monster. The judgement is icy cold so she pulls her emerald sweater tighter around her and ignores everyone else. Whispers swirl in air and she blocks them out. She doesn’t want to hear what people think of her when she isn’t flanked by her friends. She may know what they think but she just can’t bother listening today. She opens her locker and shifts stuff around, waiting until the scrutiny isn’t so palpable. A hand grabs her shoulder ever so gently but she whips toward the person regardless. Of course it’s Phlegm. Probably going to try to hug away her bulimia once again. She plasters on a fake smile for her teacher. “Good morning, Pauline.”

Phlegm loves being the cool teacher that is called her first name by all of her students. She is the only one that insists that the kids refer to her so formally, as if she’s a peer. Everyone she’s flunked knows she’s not so all 3 Heather know very well that she’s not their equal. Still, they wish to be viewed highly by the adults that affect their futures so they appease her on her bullshit request.

“Hello, Heather. How are you doing?” The teacher asks sympathetically.

“Peachy.” Heather replies, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up at the somber tone of Fleming.

“Heather, there’s no need to be strong for me. Losing someone as close as Heather must hurt. You’re allowed to feel.”

Her chest constricts in terror. “Excuse my language Flem, but what the fuck are you talking about?”

“Has no one told you?” The teacher asks sadly, ignoring what Heather called her completely.

Everyone is pitying her. She doesn’t pity. She wants answers. Some jock pats her back gently. “Sorry about your friend chugging that shit. It’s a shame. She was such hot snatch.”

Heather can’t stop her fist from connecting with this douche’s chin. Shock spreads across his face but he nods pathetically and wanders off without retaliation. “Heather! This is a no violence zone!” Fleming shrieks.

“Just tell me what’s going on? What happened to Heather?” Heather bellows through gritted teeth.

The hall is silent for once that day.

Jesse fucking James strolls up to her in his stupid fucking trench coat that is totally inappropriate for the weather, his boots adding heavy thumps to the air in contrast to the unsettling quiet. “No one wants to be the one to tell you since you’ve shown us the animalistic nature of humans when terrified and backed into a corner. See I, on the other hand, don’t give a shit if you act like a psycho bitch towards me. I know that, deep down, a psycho bitch is exactly what you are and all you’ll ever be. Heather killed herself. She drained down some Drano and she is no more.” He says nonchalantly, his lips curling up ever so slightly. “She is dead, deceased, gone! She kicked the bucket and bought the farm. She is turning so decayed and rotten that even the worms won’t touch her!”

The pure, unadulterated glee in his voice makes her feel the urge to vomit in a way her fingers or salt water never could. Veronica runs up and yanks him away as she chastises him for telling her like that.

“Fuck off.” She says, storming off.

 

***

 

Which Heather is everyone talking about? How can either of them be gone? Why won’t everyone just leave her alone? She hates everyone in that building for fucking with her like this. There’s no way one of them would have killed herself. She finds herself in her Jeep blasting rock music so loud the vehicle vibrates. The passenger door opens and Heather McNamara slides in. She takes one glance at the scrawny girl, her face is red and blotchy with mascara staining her cheeks. That is the moment she realizes maybe Ronnie’s boy toy is telling the truth. A numbness fills her body and everything feels heavy. They sit silently together, save for the sobs that escape McNamara. Heather reaches out and grabs her friend’s hand. “I thought it was you. I don’t know what to feel now that it’s not.” The cheerleader whimpers.

“Well sorry to disappoint.”

She swears she can hear Mac’s jaw hit the floor but she can’t bare to look at her. Not with the guilt she feels for being glad that if one of them was dead, it wasn’t her. She turns her music up again. Less than a second later, the music is shut off. “You know that’s not what I meant. You’re alive. I thought someone found you with your head in some toilet filled with your blood or your heart gave out or even god forbid you did exactly what Heather did because you hated yourself that much.”

Duke can’t help the laugh that she lets out. Obviously that was the wrong thing to do by the look of her scowl. “I’m sorry but do you really think that’s how it goes?”

“I know it is. Unlike you, I’ve done research on bulimics so don’t you dare act like I’m making up my fears. That is how this ends. You dead at 17 or getting better.” She shouts, punching Heather’s arm hard.

That strikes her as odd but she’ll bite. She knows it’s not healthy but deadly? It’s clearly not like she’ll die of starvation if that chub around her belly and thighs has anything to say about it. “Dead at 17? Really? How?”

“Do you think subjecting your throat to acid at least 3 times a day does nothing? That it won’t easily eat through tissue? That all that stress of constantly barfing and rarely digesting is gentle on your body? That all the self hatred that isn’t dealt with just disappears? You’re smart, Heather. Don’t act shocked that the stupid one figured this out.”

“Hey now. I don’t hate myself.”

“Oh? So you decide to stick your fingers down your throat because you love yourself so much?” She sneers.

Duke can’t stop her hand from going to slap her. It’s become an instinct. She hates it but it’s her normal. It doesn’t connect. Slender fingers wrap tightly around her wrist and Mac throws her hand back at her chest. “Guess the wrong Heather died...” She mumbles, slamming the door behind her as she leaves.

Duke runs out after her. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Mac keeps with her march back into the high school. Duke huffs and grabs her wrist. “Which Heather would be the right Heather?”

Mac yanks back and turns around. Duke runs around ahead of her, blocking the door inside. “Let me through, Heather.”

“No. Look me in the eyes and tell me I’m the right Heather. Then I’ll let you go wherever you please.”

Her chest heaves heavily. She’s trying not to cry and Duke hates seeing the walking ray of sunshine like this. She expects her to take it back and say she didn’t mean it. She doesn’t.

“You self centered bitch! I’m the right Heather.”

Everything in her shatters. “What does that mean?”

Mac’s arms cross over her chest defensively, her gaze pointed at her feet. “And everyone thinks I’m the idiot?” She mumbles. “What do you think it does? It’s not like I have a future after my high school cheerleading career, it’s not like I could be someone important and wise like you or Ronnie. You were almost the only Heather here today but I’m too scared to follow through.”

Duke nods and slides her arm around her back. “C’mon.”

“What? We’re late for class. We should get it soon.”

“Nope. No school today. Our friend is dead. We are contractually obligated to skip in memory of her defiant nature. I’m sure Phlegm won’t let us be punished. Not today.”

Mac’s lips twitch upwards, not quite a smile but not a straight face. “What’s the plan?”

“Heather left some booze at my house from our last sleepover. I say we get fucking wasted and watch some of those shitty romantic movies you love so much.”

“I could sit through a documentary or 2 for you if you’d like.” She mumbles, wandering over to her Jeep.

“I think I’d like that a lot.” Duke turns to face her. “Hey Heather?”

“Hm?”

“I’m glad it wasn’t you.”

Mac rests her arm on Duke’s shoulders momentarily and sighs weakly. “I’m glad it wasn’t you either.”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on my tumblr @elphabuddy


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